Page 84 of Temporary Vows

I climb the stairs to the attic. They’re much narrower than the other set of stairs.

When I push the door open, the automatic light snaps on, revealing rows of neatly arranged stacks of boxes. It’s the tidiest attic I’ve ever seen. The room is immaculate, not even a speck of dust in sight.

I’m almost nervous to add my little box to the collection. It feels like it doesn’t belong here. A little like me.

I walk further inside, heading over to the opposite side of the room. There I spot a space where I can put my box. It’s far enough that it’s out of the way and easy for me to access if I need anything.

I set it down, then glance around. All this stuff in here is Dorian’s. I can’t imagine what he must be keeping up here.

Maybe all his high school and college stuff from Princeton. It’s strange to think that Jack would have been part of his life then.

Something catches my eye at the end of the row. It’s an opened box.

“Well, you’re out of place,” I mutter, leaning forward to get a better look.

Of course, I can’t make out anything. I know I shouldn’t be tempted to look, but curiosity gets the better of me, and I find myself drifting toward the box.

I kneel beside it. Inside are a bunch of notebooks, copies ofScientific Americanfrom what looks like ten years ago, and a big photo album.

From the way the album is positioned, it looks like someone was looking through it.

Curiosity stirs again, compelling me to take a look as well. What harm could come of it? I’m all the way up here, practically a ghost in the house. And Dorian’s not home.

It’s not like we’d be sitting down for a heart-to-heart.

I know him, yet at the same time, I don’t know him at all. Before the whole Marcus thing, we hadn’t seen each other in over eight years. The only things that may give me some insight into the man I am marrying are pieces like these.

I open the album.

It’s one of the old-style versions with the thick, cream pages and thin sheets of tissue paper between each photograph.

The first picture makes me smile.

It’s him, maybe in his late teens, standing on the beach looking like a badass with his surfboard behind him. And he’s actually smiling. A rare thing.

I turn the page and find a set of pictures of him and his brothers.

The next one is of him and Jack. I’m actually surprised to see it.

Jack threw out all of his pictures of himself and Dorian.

I stare at the picture and feel sad when I take note of their easy smiles and closeness. They’re standing together outside a restaurant, and they look like they’ll always be friends.

No one would ever believe that almost ten years have gone by during which they haven’t been anything of the sort.

Honestly, there’s no one to blame but Jack.

When the business was falling apart, all he focused on was how evil Dorian was for not helping. He hardly even mentioned the fiasco with Catherine. He didn’t even express any sorrow.

I know he wasn’t the only one at fault. Catherine was, too. I wasn’t overly fond of her back then—and I’m not now—so I can’timagine why she thought it was a good idea to sleep with her boyfriend’s best friend.

“Find something interesting?”

Dorian’s deep voice startles me, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I have to steady the album to stop it from falling out of my hands.

I look up and find him standing a few paces away, watching me. He looks like he might have been there awhile.

God, how did he get so close to me? I didn’t even hear him come in.